By Smaktakula

Sometimes, when you mention a grievance or accomplishment, large or small, some would-be-funnyman will pipe up, “Do you want a medal or something?”

Next time this happens, tell him, “You’re goddamn right I want a medal. Let’s have it!”

Then, when he inevitably stumbles in his reply, tell him, “Your problem is that you make promises on which you have no intention of delivering. That makes you a liar and a scoundrel. Good day to you, Sir!”

With Or Without The Medal, You’re Pretty Special Just The Way You Are.

By Smaktakula

Not All Of Our Time-Travel Dreams Involve Doin’ The Nasty With Joan Of Arc.

Were I able to travel through time and make the 4th dimension my bitch, I’d try to use my power wisely. One thing that I think would be a lot of fun is to travel forward in time. The first thing I’d do is track down the dude¹ who will eventually cure cancer, and punch him in his fucking face.

The Second Worst Thing About Cancer Is That It Turns The People Who Love You Into Humorless Ninnies. The Worst Thing? We Suspect You Already Know.

But just think about it: when history tells the story of the dude who finally cured cancer, the tale will be that much cooler if, in addition to all the other obstacles surmounted in his quest to eradicate this hideous disease, he managed to do it despite some asshole punching him in the face.

“First Of All, I’d Like To Thank The Nobel Committee For Selecting Me For This Singular Honor…”

¹Readers may wonder, what if the person who discovers a cure for cancer is a woman? Well, that would undo all our plans, as punching a woman is just beastly. But seriously, it’ll be a man. ∞ T.

By Smaktakula

In which we present a happy thought for the weekend:

It’s True: We Spend A Good Deal Of Our Free Time Devising Ways To Bring A Little More Sunshine Into Your Life.

Life is demanding, noisy and chaotic. It is distracting. The myriad stimuli with which we anesthetize ourselves and to which we have become hopelessly addicted often obscure the everyday wonders which are never in short supply, but lacking the stridency and sex-appeal of electronic gadgetry, go so often unnoticed.

One such simple but overlooked beauty of life is manifested in a biological quirk: that men and boys are able to pee standing up. Although this truth is known to virtually the entire human population over the age of two, very few stop to consider the full ramifications of this notion.

Eww. See? You’re Not Ready For This Awesome Privilege.

Contemplating the nature of the standing pee is of benefit to both sexes. Reduced to its essence, it becomes a liberating, powerful concept:

Men, the world itself is your urinal.

Take joy in this freedom to go where you want to go.

There’s Only One Rule: Shake It Off Before It Goes Back In Your Pants.

And ladies, that the world is not your urinal no doubt comes as something of a relief.

Any Time. Any Place. Any Reason.

Back in college, this one dude got pretty fucked up one night and peed on every single exterior stairway handrail on campus. He regretted it the next morning, but what could he do?–so he never told anyone. If you ever happen to find yourself at a particular small, Southern California liberal arts college, avoid the payphones for the same reason. ∞ T.

By Smaktakula

Those of you, who like us from time to time employ vulgar and absurd phrases to express dislike, will no doubt identify with the following scenario.

You: “This cream cheese tastes like donkey ass!”¹

Funny Buddy: “Oh–And just how do you know what donkey ass tastes like?”

Anyone who finds this tired response amusing isn’t likely to benefit from an explanation of metaphorical speech. However, such an unimaginative person is almost certain to be thrown for a loop if you surprise him with the conversational equivalent of driving your Toyota Tacoma through the freeway median and barreling into oncoming traffic.

Next time, when met with the response “How would you know what donkey ass (or some other suitably heinous comparison) tastes like?”–stand your ground. Look your tormentor straight in the eye, and with a jaded sneer and a slow, exaggerated licking of the lips, say:

“How the fuck do you think I know?”

Thanks To The Beast’s Varied Diet, Donkey Ass Is Chock Full Of The Essential Nutrients To Help Build Growing Bodies.

¹By which it should be obvious that we mean “donkey butt” rather than “donkey donkey.” ∞ T.

By Smaktakula

Every now and again you’ll find yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to cooperate for a short time with an asshole. Ever the consummate gentleman (or gentlelady), you will no doubt make the best of a bad situation, resisting the urge to draw attention to the low-grade animosity between the two of you.

However, comporting himself like a mature adult may be asking too much of this twat’s self-discipline and dignity. In an effort to wrest control of the situation (and by extension some small piece of his sad and wasted life), he may hit you with a blustery line beginning with the painfully obvious assertion, “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me.”

ACTION! “I Love You–You Love Me, We’re A . . . A . . .Look, I Can’t Do This, Okay? Baby Bop, I Want You Out Of My Fucking Life. The Thought Of Even One More Day Waking Up To Your Face Fills Me With A Numb Horror From Which There Is No Escape. Why Won’t You Die, Baby Bop? Why Won’t You–” CUT!

It’s a fair bet that someone so reliant on an old movie-house chestnut like that will be sluggish on his mental feet–the right comment delivered at the right moment will shut this joker down. Be ready!

Your opponent will be ready for at most two reactions. He will expect you either to engage him in mutual verbal hostility, or else sink into a sullen silence. He has likely crafted an action plan for either response, and it is critical that you keep him off-balance and outside his comfort zone.

Many People Believe That Being A Bloated, Caricatured, Acquisitive Vulgarian Is Something To Be Admired. Fortunately, Only The Donald Holds In Such Esteem Guys Who Hide Their Baldness By Plastering The Strands Of A Greasy Mop Along The Smooth Contours Of Their Skulls.

Immediately after he delivers his line–before he finishes his sentence, if possible–respond with a completely perplexed, “I like you fine.”*

Completely unprepared such an eventuality, this clown will be instantly rendered more desperate for a cue card than Lindsay Lohan in The Merry Wives of Windsor. He will splash about for a few moments, but if not thrown a rope in the form of an angry reaction on your part, he will soon enough sink below the surface with no trace of his passing.

Congratulations! You’ve gone all Gandhi on this guy, scoring a knockout with a metaphorical kick to the nuts, and carried it off with all the panache and precision of Fred Astaire.You can now expect that whatever you need to accomplish together should be easy enough, with no lip from the cowed ass-clown.

“Remember: There’s Somebody Who Thinks You’re Pretty Special Just The Way You Are. It’s Not Me, Though; I Don’t Particularly Care For You.”

*An alternate answer which is generally less successful, but more efficacious in those instances when it does succeed, is best employed by actors or by individuals with expressive personalities. This version requires a longish pause after jerkwad’s line. Then affecting a look of mild shock and barely concealed hurt, say in a small voice, “You don’t like me?”

By Smaktakula

It Can Sometimes Be Helpful To Remember That Not Every Situation Is An Ideal Forum For Your Rapier-Keen Wit.

Sometimes, when Johnny Law pulls over an out-of-state driver for one of a variety of offenses such as speeding or gun-running, he likes to preface his presentation of the offense by professing ignorance to the legality of the issue in the arrestee’s home state. For example, “Son, I don’t know how they do things in Arizona, but hit and run is against the law in California.”*

The outcome of the encounter will largely be determined by the first words out of your mouth. It is therefore a bad idea to say, “Really? You didn’t know that striking something with your vehicle and then fleeing the scene is illegal pretty much everywhere in the world that they have laws?”

The officer will not appreciate your helpfulness.

*This profession of ignorance is the verbatim statement of a police officer in Yosemite, California. ∞T.

By Smaktakula

Don’t We Want A Better World For Our Children Than This?

If you’re like most normals, you’ll do just about anything to avoid a potluck. This bizarre tradition of foisting one’s leftovers on the rest of the community refuses to die, and like a recurrent and pernicious staph infection, potlucks manifest in churches, classrooms and work-place cafeterias, kept alive by joyless prigs who hate to see people actually enjoying their food.

At Promethean Times, we don’t like potlucks any more than you do, and avoid them whenever possible. But in those rare instances when we’re unable to beg off such engagements, we find that by employing the Promethean Times Potluck Method,™ an unpleasant time is made ever-so-slightly more bearable. For those masochistic few who enjoy potlucks, why not stop reading now, and instead check out that Murder She Wrote marathon on the Hallmark Channel?

“So Who’s Behind The Potluck Phenomenon? Could It Be…Oh, I Don’t Know, Maybe…SATAN?!?”

First of all–don’t cook! Unless you’re able to cook something of extremely limited appeal but which you enjoy (see below), you’re better off buying something from the supermarket and then putting it on a paper plate. Expending more than a minimum effort defeats the purpose of the Promethean Times Potluck Method.™

To determine which foodstuffs to bring to the potluck, try to identify an edible which you enjoy, but which is not preferred or (better) actively disliked by the other potential potluck attendees. Smaktakula prefers to bring kalamata olives.

Smaktakula Prefers Them With The Pits. You’re In For A Treat.

Thanks to your wise food choice, you’ll be able to eat any of the dishes provided by more conscientious attendees, all the while urging others to “Try my home-cured olives–I think they’re pretty good for my first try. The brine almost seems to dance across your taste buds. Saltylicious!” If you’ve chosen correctly, they’ll have nothing to do with your food, and you’ll have plenty of leftovers to bring home.

More sensitive types may worry that their actions will be noticed. This is inevitable. As the person who brings pickled pigs’ feet to the party time after time, you’re going to attract attention. However, your craftiness will appear as nothing more than eccentricity when juxtaposed with those few folks who, inevitably, bring nothing. You’ve always got a leg up on those cheap fuckers.

By Smaktakula

We Certainly Wouldn't Pay Good Money For A Diminutive, Messianic Madman, But We'd Be Fools To Pass Up This Deal.

Folks love to tell you that “the best things in life are free.” There has never been a time when these words were true, and never less so than today. Those who chose to repeat this old canard willfully ignore that even essential items cost money, and that about the only things which still remain free are your first month of service, unsolicited advice and herpes.

This Ad May Be In Error. Last We Heard, China Was Never Going To Give Up Tibet.

By Smaktakula

Try To Think Of It Not As A Loss, But As An Opportunity.

After the death of a loved one, well-meaning friends and acquaintances will tell you, often in these very words, If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. Why not take them up on it? Certainly they wouldn’t have offered if they didn’t mean it, and will no doubt be overjoyed to help out.

Putting the technique into play!

"Cody, I'm So Sorry For Your Loss. If There's Anything I Can Do--Anything--Don't Hesitate To Ask."

"Hey, Thanks A Lot, Mr. Johnson. I Appreciate It. Since You Offered, Do You Mind If I Borrow Your Extra Car 'Till I Can Get Back On My Feet? That Would Be Really Awesome!"

"Oh, Yeah--My Car. Um, You See, Cody, The Thing About That Is..."

"I'm Sorry, Mr. Johnson--That Was Way Out Of Line, And I'm Sorry. I Was Just Thinking That 'Cause You Said I Should Ask If There Was Anything You Could Do, And 'Cause My Mom Got Burned To A Crisp In That Shoe-Factory Fire, That...No, Never Mind. Forget I Ever Brought It Up."

"..."

"How Long Do You Think You'll Need The Car?"

It’s a winner!

***

"Cody, I Was So Sorry To Hear About Your Mom. You Let Me Know If There's Anything I Can Do To Help."

By Smaktakula

This Achieves The Same End, And Unless You Work For The Citrus Growers Association, Is Not Likely To Get You Fired.

If you’re the kind of dude who photographs and then texts pictures of his genitals, we have a hint for you. Given the likelihood that your boudoir photos will someday resurface to potentially ruin your life, why not take precautions now to mitigate that eventual crash?

People Are Less Interested In The Indiana Whitesnake Than You Might Imagine.

We recommend making it a habit to carry your cell phone in your crotch. When people inevitably ask you why you do it, say, “I know it sounds crazy, but a cell phone, like the human body, functions best at 98.6 degrees.” Those to whom you pass on this fib will either swallow it whole or else believe you to be a drooling moron. Either way they’ll likely leave you alone about it. And by carrying your phone in your crotch–and more importantly being known as the kind of jackass who carries his phone in his crotch–you’ll provide your eventual excuse–‘Golly, I don’t know how that happened!‘–with just a smidgen of believability.